ilyiw: Stranger Things Have Happened
by cpneb
Summary: A tale of Kim and Will, how their lives twisted and turned, ending up together, and how they impacted others...just not how they expected. Warning: major character death, happiness, and real life. A collaborative story... Chapter 2 is up.
1. Intro 1: Gathering

_**If lovin' you is wrong**_**: Stranger Things Have Happened.**

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Kim Possible and all the characters of the show are owned by the Disney Company. The original lyrics to the songs referenced in this story and the music are the property of the respective authors, artists and labels. All other characters can be blamed on the author (he, however, is not responsible for all of their actions at all times, being barely responsible for himself most of the time).

This is a strictly not-for-profit, just-for-fun work.

Enjoy! Thank you in advance for reading, and please review.

**A/N Forward: **

This is a tale of two individuals: how their lives wound and unwound as they twisted and turned, ending up together…just not the two people you'd expect.

Warning: there is major character death, major happiness and issues that truly reflect real life…

It's a different type of tale for me, but it's another entry in the 'if lovin' you is wrong' (ilyiw) multiverse….

--

Intro 1 - Gathering

--

"Are you ready, Sir?" asked a decidedly feminine voice that came from nowhere. Though the voice clearly had an Australian accent, the voice sounded like someone was trying to perform a very bad impersonation of a classic British butler from television, or the movies.

But, then, the voice lost its attempt at majesty when it broke out in a fit of teen-age-girl boy-band-crazed half-muffled giggles.

Her voice suddenly regained its composure and greeted the new arrival with a "g'day, mate," just as the distinguished-looking gentleman entered the gate that opened onto an open field. As he closed it, the fit of giggling began again, a bit more subdues this time. Once he made sure that the gate was shut and secured, he rolled his eyes heavenward for just a second and then started out onto the field.

Although it was clear the 'Urban Camo' that he wore was Global Justice issue, it was also clear that it had been originally tailored to fit him perfectly; it seemed, however, that even though the years had been gentle to both him and the garment: neither showed their true age. With each step he took, the light reflected off his boots that had been polished to the point that they could have been used as mirrors to redirect lasers. His black hair, which had more than a few minor streaks of white, not only in his temples but, as much as he hated to admit it, the rest of his head, as well. Even with the fact that both his granddaughter and daughter-in-law liked to stand behind him and pull out his white hairs, his hair still was neat and looked to have been trimmed using a carpenter's square and a micrometer.

"Ready?" The now-fully-professional female voice questioned the gentleman.

By his second step into the area, he had noted and locked the position of the four tables in his mind, the closest being what he guessed was no more than 10 yards away. With a nod of his head, he answered the unseen voice with "I was born ready, Gillian". By the end of his response, he had taken his fourth step into the area.

The unseen female voice spoke again, now back to doing the butler impression.

"Very good, Sir…" Then, without any warning:

PULL!" she spoke the single, deliberately enunciated, word with an intensity of power that would have instilled instant fear into a common man. A clay pigeon flew instantly up into the air from a hidden launcher to his left, while the man, within mere moments, broke out into a full run for the closest table.

When he was three steps away from the table, he could clearly see the crossbow with a quiver of bolts next to it. At the same time, he heard the female voice call out again:

"PULL!" This time, the force of her voice changed to determination as if the unexpected was about to occur.

Instantly, another target fired from a second hidden launcher, this time from his right.

Reaching out, he quickly grabbed the crossbow and placed the butt where his right leg joined his torso as he came to a dead stop beside the table. Placing both hands on the bowstring, he pulled hard and heard the string lock into the cocking mechanism. He brought the butt up to his shoulder with one hand and used the other to remove a bolt from the quiver and place it into the shaft guide. Once that was done, he took aim and fired: all the actions done with cat-like quickness, precision, and with a grace that appeared almost eerie. And, all was done in just heartbeats.

Without looking at the table, he dropped the crossbow on it and sprinted off toward the next closest table, another 10 yards away. Over his shoulder, the silent bolt hit the clay pigeon dead center, and the pigeon disappeared in a puff of dust as it reached its apex.

He was barely a step away from the second table, this one with a compound bow placed on it, when he heard Gillian call out a third time:

"PULL!" This time, the single word was filled with an 'I gotcha this time' lilt.

A third target fired from a launcher somewhere in the middle.

Picking up the compound bow in one hand, he again grabbed an arrow from the bow's attached quiver and quickly knocked it. In one fluid motion, he brought the notched end of the arrow to his cheek and pushed the bow away from him until it was in full draw. He tracked the second target for a heartbeat and then released the arrow. Again, everything happened in a movement that made it appear as if it was all just done in a single one motion, and not the many steps that occurred.

For a second time, he dropped the bow back on the table and took off at a full run for the next closest table without looking back at the one he just left or at the clay target. The pigeon exploded in dust as the arrow pierced it at the top of its flight.

As he reached the third table, he could see it held a long bow that had the bowstring attached to one end, but not the other. Beside it lay a single arrow.

The second he stopped, he picked up the bow in one hand and jammed the end with the bowstring attached to it at the ground beside his boot. Moving the hand holding the bow toward the end near where the string would need to be, he bent the bow and brought up the string with the other and slipped it into place. Quickly he reached for the arrow as he used his foot to kick the bow up into the air and catch it. Quickly, he again notched the arrow, traced the target and let the arrow fly.

The target was blown from its flight as the arrow nicked it, but hard enough to shatter it.

He never saw it as he had already dropped the bow and was running at the fourth and last table as hard as he could, another 10-yard sprint.

He was just half way when her piqued, yet single-minded accented voice, called out again:

"Pop-ups: Friend or Foe," came out of the air with a sense f satisfaction in her voice that would have led one to believe that she had pre-determined the outcome.

Suddenly, targets popped up out of nowhere. Red beams fired at him as they began to move and change positions.

He changed course quickly, moving to his right. After two steps, he moved to his left, the beams crossing where he had been just milliseconds beforehand. When he was less than two steps from the last table, he dove at it. He had just moments before he reached it to see the holstered gun laying on it. All the while, the targets never stopped firing at him.

As he flew over it, he reached out with one hand and grasped the pistol, and with the other he latched on to the table's edge.

With a small grunt, the only sound he had made since Gillian had yelled the first "pull", he pulled at the table with all of his strength as he passed over it. The table started to turn on its side as his grip on it changed the position of his body and forced it to come down hard on the other side.

The table started to flip over him.

Quickly, he released the table and pulled the pistol out of the holster just as the table landed, giving him a barrier between him and the pop-up targets.

Thumbing off the safety, he raised the pistol over the edge as he took a fast look at the targets and their locations. Taking a two handed grip, he fired six shots. His own pistol discharging a laser beam just like the targets had been firing at him.

"Course on standby," Gillian said in a tone of voice that sounded amused, yet happy and satisfied, it seemed.

At those words, he slowly stood up and, without looking, clipped the holster to his belt and then slid the pistol inside it.

"'Course on standby', Gillian? Might I inquire as to why?" he asked in a calm tone that was just starting to show a loss of breath.

At his question, the pop-up targets started to move towards him again. When they were about six feet from him they stopped. Five of the six had clear holes burned into the pictures on them. Only one was unmarked.

"You _do_ see the problem, right?" Gillian asked.

He laughed at her questioning, for he could see her, standing there, hands on her hips, right foot tapping, and her blue hear waving in the slight breeze. "I see no problem, Gillian…other then you using 'Scooby-Doo' again as a target. What have I told you about that before?" he said.

Rather than answer his question; she asked one of her own.

"And the reason you shot poor Chim-Chim, twice?" she asked as one of targets move a little closer. The picture on the target was a monkey dressed in a pair of red overalls wearing a red and white cap on his head. Two holes were perfectly placed between the eyes of the image.

"The monkey must die," he growled. "He's evil." Then, he added, "He's a monkey, he's evil, and he must die."

"Channeling someone, much?" Gillian said with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

When he gave no reply, she went on. "Very well: the course is clear… almost," she continued in a sultry and teasing tone…but, the second that the words were spoken…

…suddenly, three more clay pigeons leapt into the air. Without missing a beat, he pulled the pistol out of the holster in a blur of motion and fired three shots, beams from the pistol hitting each target and shattering it into a cloud of dust.

"Course is now clear," Gillian stated. "Not bad for an old geezer," she chucked with sheer satisfaction. "On your pigeons, you scored 93 out of 100. On the pop-ups, a perfect score, if you exclude poor, defenseless Chim-Chim," she added with a continued chuckle.

"Please, Gillian," he said with a hint of a laugh in his own voice as he re-holstered the pistol, "I keep reminding you: I'm not old."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Grandfather" she answered and then fell silent for a moment then added, "By the way, the car with your oldest son, daughter-in-law, and their two children is inbound: ETA, approximately 20.4 minutes: more than enough time for you to wash that funk off of your body."

"Please," he suddenly laughed turning to the gate, "I have no funk."

"Right, Grandpa: tell me another tall tale. Please and thank you," Gillian laughed out loud. "Would you like me to bring you the evidence?"

"Please and thank you?" he repeated. "Is someone else channeling?" he asked, honestly surprised, and he would have sworn he heard Gillian snicker.

He opened the gate, walked though, and then closed it.

"Gillian, Hologram mode please" he said.

Suddenly, a pretty young woman appeared beside him inside the gate. She had light blue hair that fell to just below her shoulders and looked to no older then her late teens to early 20's.

"Yes," Gillian asked.

"Would you clean this up for me, please and thank you" he asked. The endearing tone of his words made the hologram quiver for an entire nano-second.

Gillian sighed: "A woman's work is never done," she laughed and nodded her head. With that, he turned and walked off as a squad of 'bots emerged from unseen portals to collect the evidence and replace the area to its pristine condition as he took off in a dead run to cover the quarter-mile distance back to the house.

--

He stepped from the shower in the master bath of their bathroom into their bedroom, smiling as his feet lovingly hugged the bamboo flooring, once again. He remembered the feel from his childhood, and he was glad he had managed to talk his wife into doing it in their house. She'd been skeptical, but she loved it now, almost as much as he did. He quickly got dressed for the dinner party that they had planned for their kids, grandkids, and friends, for today was their celebration day: a bittersweet one, but a celebration, nonetheless.

Today was their wedding anniversary, the day he had married the woman he loved, the day he had promised to protect her with his very life. 'Just as someone else had done,' he remembered sadly, combing his hair.

Though the official records could have shown her having only married him, at her insistence, they read as her second marriage and his first. Both weddings had been held "on the same Fetter day, the same Ferret-time," she had told him with a hint of a small grin: again, at her insistence. He was certain that she had lost it when she told him the date and time that she wanted to get married.

He pulled her out of the living room of his apartment, away from the wedding planner, and into the kitchen, with neither of them saying a word. But before he could ask her if she really wanted to marry him on that same day, he saw the look on her face, and he almost lost it, himself. It was a look of anger, fear, love both found and lost, and pleading, all in one chin-quivering smile:

"I don't want to have any more bad memories of that day," she had whispered before falling into his arms and sobbing. He felt her love, pouring out, and he loved her too much to disagree with her.

They were married on that very day and time of her choice: that day that held so many memories for her… and so many other people, as well.

He could still see, in his mind's eye, her walking down that aisle at their wedding, resplendent in her radiant white wedding dress. The almost-invisible-unless-you-looked-very-close-and-knew-where-to-look red stains had been thoroughly cleaned from the dress, but they were the only parts of it that didn't simply glow to his eyes...

Then, there was that one spot, directly over her heart…

It was _him_, and it would always be there…for it was him, and for him…

He didn't mind, though: _he_ loved her then, and she still felt _his_ love, even 25 years later.

She always had….and, she always would.

And, amazingly to him, it no longer bothered him, after their first 3-4 years of marriage.

He buttoned his shirt, adjusted his tie, and pulled his jacket from the closet. Looking into the mirror, he smiled: after all these years, he still looked young, he thought with the vision of one who wanted to believe his youth hadn't all gone away, no matter what his grandchildren and Gillian said to him.

With that, he opened the bedroom door and had both legs captured by grandchildren: a young boy of 4 and his fraternal twin sister. He laughed, remembering how his wife had gone ballistic when their 20-year-old son had come home, engaged to a 26-year-old woman. 'She sure changed her tone when the twins were born and the doctor placed them in her arms, though,' he laughed inside as he hugged them both.

"Grandfather!" both yelled as they hugged his legs, and he grinned as he bent down to hug them back.

"Grandfather," the young boy spoke, "can I ask you a question?"

"You have the ability," he replied, and the girl giggled while the young boy rolled his eyes and sighed in youthful exasperation.

"_May_ I ask you a question, Grandfather?" the boy re-stated the question, and he nodded in response.

"You may, indeed," he replied, and he was pulled from the bedroom door, though the hallway, and into the great room. In the center of the secondary seating area was a low table: on it was an open photo album.

'It was bound to happen,' he thought with a sad sigh. His eyesight hadn't failed him, even at this age. He still had 20/15 vision and didn't need either glasses or that new-fangled corrective bio-sonic eye surgery that was all the rage. He could make out the wedding pictures that the album was opened to, even at this distance.

"Grandfather, who is this man with Grandmother?" the young boy asked as he pulled him to the table, pointing to the picture of the wedding party. He grimaced internally before speaking with a smile on his face.

"That's the man who would have been your grandfather,' he said calmly.

The young boy clearly looked confused. "Did he marry Grandmother?" the boy asked, and he nodded.

"Then, where were _you_?" the young girl asked, surprise and confusion both sounding in her voice.

"I was around, just not in those pictures," he explained.

"Who are all of those people?" the girl asked.

"The older woman and man are your great-grandmother Anne and great-grandfather James," a soft, yet rich, contralto voice came up behind him. He smiled as a pair of slender, strong, and loving feminine hands wrapped around his waist, the long fingers intertwining on his abs. He could feel her head as she placed it onto his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo and feel her hair. He grinned inside: both sensations brought a smile to his face outside.

"Those two young men," she said, removing her right hand and pointing at the pair of young men in the photograph, "are your great-uncles Jim, and Tim." She paused for a moment, then pointed at another young man, sitting in what looked like a high-tech wheelchair, and his lap being occupied by a dark-skinned young woman, before continuing to speak: "the lady, sitting in that young man's lap, is my best friend, Monique. The man who is smiling so much is her fiancé, Felix." She then pointed at the large man in the background and smiled. "The mountain of a man behind us all is your uncle Mike, and the smiling young blonde wrapped up in his arms is his fiancée, now wife, Aunt Justine."

"Is Monique where Cousin Mon got her name?" the boy asked, and the woman nodded.

"But, Grandmother, who is the cute blonde young man, standing with you and smiling so big with your arms around each other?" the girl asked. "He looks weird, but I think I like him," she added, and the grandmother smiled.

He chuckled, for he remembered both of them, and their relationship, all too well 'She sounds just like her grandmother did, back in the day: her late teens,' he thought, back to when he had first met them.

"That's Ron, sweetheart: he was my husband." He didn't have to see her face to know what had appeared there for only a moment: a bittersweet smile on her lips, and a faraway look in her eyes. He had seen it, in their early days together, before they were married, far too often…usually followed by her running off and sobbing in what she thought was a sound-proof room.

It wasn't, and his heart broke every time he heard her cry. 'At least, I was successful in one thing: she doesn't cry as hard or as long, anymore,' he thought.

"When?" the girl demanded, hands balled up on her hips, and the grandfather grinned inside as his granddaughter, once again, reminded him of her grandmother, but he then felt his wife squeeze him gently and lovingly, but with that touch he recognized.

"We were married for six hours and 23 minutes," she replied.

"What happened to him?" the boy asked, still confused.

"He died," she responded after a second or two, and both the young boy and girl gasped at the answer.

"What happened, Grandmother?" the young girl asked, a confused tone in her voice. "You must have been deva-…deva-…," she paused, took a breath, stood up straight and announced "devastated." Her grandmother smiled and reached out to pat her head.

"She takes after her grandmother, Madam Secretary-General," a rich baritone voice came from the doorway. Looking up, he could see, standing in the hallway, a medium-height, slightly graying African-American man, holding the hand of a lovely and shapely redheaded woman. Both of them were smiling, and he smiled at the African-American's hair, the grays sticking straight out as if to strike out at the tight black curls of hair surrounding them

"You should talk, Director," the grandmother laughed and stepped up to hug him.

"You need to tell them, Madam Secretary-General: you need to tell your story. I'll bet you'll make both your children _and_ grandchildren all very happy and proud of you…even more than they are already," the African-American man grinned, but his face added an unspoken message: 'and, you'll feel better when you do.'

'You're probably right,' she nodded back at him.

The Director had been with her long enough to read her body language, and he stepped forward and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered, "from all of us who truly love you," he added, and they hugged once again.

"But, later in the evening: not at dinner," she stated, and the Director laughed.

"You're _cooking_?" he feigned shock as he placed a hand over his heart and took a full Hollywood over-acted step back, and she punched him in the shoulder for it.

"You love my cooking," she laughed.

"Indeed I do," he smiled.

As the young boy and girl pulled their grandparents from the room, the man the grandmother had called Director walked over to the open album. The lovely red-haired woman came with him. Both looked down at the photo, and he felt the woman re-take his hand in hers and give it a gentle, but loving, squeeze. He looked into her eyes for a moment, and then looked back at the picture of the wedding party.

With his free hand, he traced a finger over the picture of the blond young man, Ron, and muttered under his breath:

"You would have loved her cooking, Ron: especially her trout. She finally learned to cook, and cook well: all to remember and honor you, my friend."

"Rest well," he whispered, touching the cheek of the man in the picture.

Ron smiled up at him from the picture, and the Director felt his wife place a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm all right, Liz," he whispered, and she squeezed his shoulder.

"I know, Wade, but I also know that it still hurts, even now," she whispered back, and he leaned back into her.

He turned his head slightly and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, love," he whispered. The doorbell rang, and Wade and Elizabeth Load stood straight and went to the door to greet the next group of arriving guests.

--

"So, what do you think, darlin'?"

Joss Lara grinned at her husband's question as they walked up the sidewalk when Joss, an evil grin unseen by him, crossed her face and transferred down her arm to her goosing her husband.

It had the desired reaction:

"JOSS!" Brady jumped, and then he laughed.

"I'm still likin' the buns, hubby," she smirked, and Brady blushed.

"You're ok with Wade being here, right?" he asked, and she p'shawed at him.

"That's the past, hubby: we've been working together on _**Blaze**_**IT! **for like, forever, even after it happened," she replied as she rang the bell.

"After he left you, you mean," he added, and Joss turned around and glared at him, her eyes blazing with ice-blue fire.

"If you'd just lost the only person outside of _your_ family that had faith in _you_, that stood by _you_, that watched as _you_ won _your_ prize, that had gone through 'Algebra hell' and back with _you_, Brady…well, you'd be a little messed up, too" she blurted out with a snarl that twisted her face and clearly displayed the emotions that, even after all these years, she still carried deep inside but occasionally surfaced with a vengeance onto her sleeve and filled her heart. She took a few deep breaths, her face relaxed, and the fire in her eyes began to smolder out. "I'm sorry, Honey," she spoke in her normal tone of voice, "but sometimes, even after this long, it still hurts a bit… sometimes it hurts a bit more than that, too." Joss paused as she looked into her husband's eyes, and found nothing but love, looking back at her. "But, that's not important now, Sweetheart: what's important is why we are here. He was my cousin's first love, and my trainer, my Sensei, as well" she finished with a smile.

"I know, li'l darling," he grinned, and she swatted at him and laughed. "I just worry about you, that's all."

"And, I love having you worry about me, Brady-kins," she giggled, reaching over and pulling his face to hers for a mind-blowing kiss.

"Geez, can't you two get a room or something?" came from the speaker in the outer wall, net to the door, before the door opened to reveal Wade and Elizabeth Load, both laughing.

"Hey, almost," Wade said, a smile appearing on his face that was both happiness and bittersweet as he held out his hand. Joss reached out with her own hand, and they both pulled at each other, meeting in the middle for a hug. As Wade started to release her, Joss stood on her toes and pulled him into a kiss: a kiss that reminded them both of 'what might have been'.

"Hey there, might-have-been," she grinned when their lips separated. "You've been practicin', I see," she added with a smirk.

"He has," Elizabeth laughed as she hugged Joss. "Thanks for warming him up, Joss," she added with a wink, and Joss laughed.

"Things in the car?" Wade asked, and Joss nodded. All four headed back to the Lara minivan to grab the gifts for the party.

--

"'Where there is love…I'll be there….'"

"Ma'am," Gillian spoke, and the grandmother looked up from chopping cilantro in the kitchen as Gillian's voice broke into the music, "the former Director and her husband, Provost Cotton and her husband, and Ms. Hana Stoppable are arriving shortly via tube," she reported.

"What about Jessica?" she asked.

"She, Rear Admiral Peterson, and her husband are landing shortly from D. C.," Gillian reported. "The cars are waiting for them at the _**Blaze**_**IT!** hanger, inside the secure complex at Middleton International. They should be landing within the next 47.35 minutes."

"Thank you, Gillian," she replied as she placed the knife on the counter and pulled out the trays of steaks and vegetables, placing then on the counter to warm slightly from their chilled prison in the refrigerator before applying the final brush of marinade and dash of spices for grilling.

He smiled as Gillian re-started the song and his wife unconsciously began to sway with it. He remembered how his wife had told him that Ron, in college, had discovered 'The King of Pop,' his story, and his music. He'd laughed at first, but he started to listen and read about his life. "He lived my life: 'never be normal,'" he had told her, smiling as he attempted, with little success and lots of laughter, to copy his dance moves. "Besides, he wrote a song about a rat: how cool is that?" he had told her. Her response was to slam a Naco onto the top of his head, beef-and-cheese-side down…and followed the dripping face with kisses to remove the Naco cheese.

"Are you all right?" her husband asked, and she smiled as she placed the trays on the counter.

"I'm fine," she re-assured him, "never better."

"You didn't sleep well last night," he reminded her, and she chuckled silently.

Picking up the knife, she started slicing up the vegetables for grilling. "Do you stay up and watch me sleep?" she grinned into the task, away from his line of sight for a moment before looking over her shoulder at him for a second. Only after that glance did she return her full attention to the work at hand.

"Of course, my darling," he chuckled and dodged the whole flying tomato that barely missed his head, landing with a 'splash' in a pot of water on the stovetop, as if it had been just waiting for a hot bath and now needing a rinse and a towel. "What man wouldn't want to be lying on a bed, next to you, and be allowed to watch you sleep?"

"Heh," she grinned. "You're just happy I married you," she laughed.

"Oh, believe me, I am, my love," he replied with a huge smile. "You don't know how many times I have fallen to my knees and thanked Him for pulling my head from my rump," he replied, and she walked over to him and stood in front of him, leaning over and gently kissed his cheek.

"I guess I'll keep you around," she whispered. Handing him the knife, her hands went to his back and lower…and she squeezed his rear end, generating a Yelp! from him and a bigger smile from her.

"You've been working out, I see," she grinned. "Nice," she added, pinching this time.

"Just trying to keep up with the new group of agents," he laughed, placing the knife on the counter and wrapping his arms around his wife.

"You're dong a good job, dear," she whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"You're supposed to be cooking the food, please and thank you, not each other," Liz announced, and Joss laughed as she and Liz both stood in the door, watching the couple in their kitchen.

"Gee, Cuz, get a room: don't corrupt the young-uns," Joss laughed. "By the way: Dad picked out the best buffalo in the herd for those celebration steaks," she added, pointing at the counter. "Prep work looks pretty good on them, lip-smacker," she added with a wink, and the man in Kim's arms laughed.

"Thanks, Joss," he replied, and then added, "are you keeping Brady straight?"

"That's 'Mission: Non-Possible'," Joss laughed as Brady entered the room with Wade.

"She's trying," he countered.

"No, dear: you're the one who's 'trying'" Joss shot back, and Wade and Liz both laughed.

"Nice use of alternate definitions, Joss: been studying, much?" Wade asked, and Joss blew him a raspberry.

"Some things, and people, never change, Sweet Tea," Wade dead-panned, and Joss grabbed a tomato from the counter and hit her target square in the chest.

Kim looked at her husband, and she knew that look in his eyes: she had seen it there, many times, over the last 25 years of their marriage. It was a look that held both love and mischief deluxe, at the same time, a look that she never would have thought to see come from his eyes the first time that she met him.

Without any warning, her husband picked her up, flipped her over his shoulder, and started out of the room.

"If you will excuse us both, we were told to get a room and not to corrupt the children. By some strange quirk of fate, we just _happen_ to own this house and have a room available. And," he grinned with a look that would have made demons dance with glee, "I suddenly feel the need to kiss my wife, quite completely and totally."

Everyone in the kitchen starting laughing as Kim 'pounded' on her husband's back, making everyone laugh harder. They could hear Kim call out for him to "Put me down!" but they could also hear the laughter in it.

"Put me _down_, please and thank you," she laughed.

"Dang it, Will: put me down, so I can kiss you, you crazy husband!"

The laughter followed them down the hallway into their bedroom, and the door slammed to the chorus. There was silence, and then…

"WILLIAM DU!

"SHAME ON YOU!

"WILL…" the sounds vanished, followed only by soft moans coming from the bedroom.

"CUZ!" Joss yelled, holding her hands over the young girl's ears. "There are impressionable children out here!" she laughed.

"What are Grandmother and Grandfather doing?" the girl asked, and Liz laughed when Wade dropped his head into his palms, laughing the entire time.

--

chapter complete.

--

**A/N Afterward:**

It's Will and Kim's Silver wedding anniversary…what should be a totally happy event and time is bittersweet…

for, if lovin' Ron _was_ or _is_ wrong, then Kim doesn't ever want to be right.

By the way: Will, her husband, agrees with her.

There is a small homage in this chapter that came the night before publishing (thank the squirrel that sat on the gate that I had to open to leave the house and the two bunnies that waited for me on my way home) to a unique individual who passed away yesterday (June 25, 2009) who, I am certain, lived Ron's 'Never Be Normal!' mantra: Michael Jackson. His music impacted millions, including some fanfiction writers.

Along with Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett, I wish them and Michael peace.

--

This major family of plot bunnies emerged from two stories that I wrote: "Oops…", and a KP-TZ episode: Going Home. In both I mentioned an alternate universe where Kim and Will were married. Needless to say, I got some interesting responses, and one persistent individual who continued to ask me when I was going to write the full story.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's starting…so, all the screams can be directed at all of us.

Why, you, the readers ask?

This is a jointly-crafter story between four 'unique' individuals, each adding their own unique flavor, texture, spices, and contents to the dish: ja and kt (of jakt), Star_Eva01, and yours truly, cpneb.

When I suggested the collaboration, based on the level of contribution I'd received from then in their 'beta' work, I got the following responses:

"I'm just a beta."

"In a pig's eye! If you think I'm going to tolerate this for one instant…"

I didn't listen to them, and I'm not sorry I didn't have the discipline to say 'no' to the bunnies.

Welcome, my friends, to 'If lovin' you is wrong,' brought to you by _**catS**_ (_**c**_pneb, j_**a**_, k_**t**_, and _**S**_tar_eva01), a four-way writers' collaboration.

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	2. Intro 2: Dinner and sorbet

_**If lovin' you is wrong**_**: Stranger Things Have Happened.**

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Kim Possible and all the characters of the show are owned by the Disney Company. The original lyrics to the songs referenced in this story and the music are the property of the respective authors, artists and labels. All other characters can be blamed on the author (he, however, is not responsible for all of their actions at all times, being barely responsible for himself most of the time).

This is a strictly not-for-profit, just-for-fun work.

Enjoy! Thank you in advance for reading, and please review.

**A/N Forward: **

This is a tale of two individuals: how their lives wound and unwound as they twisted and turned, ending up together…just not the two people you'd expect.

Warning: there is major character death, major happiness and issues that truly reflect real life…

It's a different type of tale for us, but it's another entry in the 'if lovin' you is wrong' (ilyiw) multiverse….

Welcome back to '_**If lovin' you is wrong**_**: Stranger Things Have Happened'**' brought to you by _**c.a.t.S.**_ (_**c**_pneb, j_**a**_, k_**t**_, and _**S**_tar_eva01), a four-way writers' collaboration.

--

**Intro 2 – Dinner and sorbet**

--

Without any warning, her husband picked her up, flipped her over his shoulder, and started out of the room.

"If you will excuse us both, we were told to get a room and not to corrupt the children. By some strange quirk of fate, we just _happen_ to own this house and have a room available. And," he grinned with a look that would have made demons dance with glee, "I suddenly feel the need to kiss my wife, quite completely and totally."

Everyone in the kitchen starting laughing as Kim 'pounded' on her husband's back, making everyone laugh harder. They could hear Kim protest for him to "Put me down!" but they could also hear the laughter in it.

"Put me _down_, please and thank you," she laughed.

"Dang it, Will: put me down, so I can kiss you, you crazy husband!"

His hands complied, and her lithe and nimble fingers, honed by years of cheerleader practice, began to play a different tune, one designed to 'hit the sweet spot' and surely make him obey her wishes

The laughter followed them down the hallway into their bedroom, and the door slammed to the chorus. There was silence, and then…

"KIMBERLY ANN!"

Then…

"WILLIAM DU!

"SHAME ON YOU!

"WILL…" the sounds vanished, followed only by soft moans coming from behind the green bedroom door.

"CUZ!" Joss yelled, holding her hands over the young girl's ears. "There are impressionable children out here!" she laughed as an image of a tonsil hockey '_**SCORE!**_' passed through her mind, accompanied by the thrill of a final, totally-unabashed victory.

"What are Grandmother and Grandfather doing?" the little girl asked, and Liz laughed when Wade dropped his head into his palms, laughing the entire time.

--

"Arriving in tube 1," Gillian announced with a laugh as the laughter continued, "is Provost Justine Flanner-Cotton and her husband, the Honorable Justice Michael O'Kelly Cotton."

"Also, arriving in tube 2, in 10.4 seconds, is the lovely Miss Hana Stoppable," a male voice announced, followed immediately by a yelp, that sound was followed immediately by Gillian, giggling as the security lights acknowledged acceptance of the arrivals' credentials. One of the two tube doors slid open to reveal a pair behind one door and, exactly 10 seconds later, the second tube door opened to reveal a lone young woman.

"I still hate these dang things," 'Big' Mike Cotton announced as he stepped out of the tube, carrying a massive pile of wrapped gifts in his hands. "There's never enough room in them when you need to move things."

"Well, Mikey," Justine smiled as she stepped out, towing a small wheeled platform with more gifts on it as she followed her husband, "you are extraordinary, my dear," she stated calmly and then giggled.

Mike turned and glared at her for a moment, turned back to gently place the gifts on the table in front of him. Free of his burden, he turned back to face his wife with a smirk on his face that she recognized all too well.

"Don't you-" she spoke as she pointed a finger at him, but it was too late: Mike picked her up in one simple motion and squeezed her tight.

"I love me some Provost," he whispered and then kissed her nose. "And, Brainy's still cute and cuddly," he added with a grin before he put her back down on the ground, none the worse for wear except for the extreme redness that her face had acquired.

"Hello, Dr. Cotton," Wade grinned and waved. Two 'bots came out and took the gifts Mike had placed on the table, and a third 'bot came and took the handle of the cart from Justine.

"Good evening, Dr. Load," Justine took the few steps towards Wade, and the two hugged.

"You've been busy, I hear," Wade smiled as he released her after kissing her cheek.

Justine laughed. "You have no idea," she replied, rolling her eyes. Her response left Wade in a quandary, but then she then gave him a quick smile. "The University expansion is really proceeding as planned, thanks to all of the benefactors."

"Ah, an attempt at humor: fascinating," Wade dead-panned; in response, Justine punched him in the ribs, much to Elizabeth's enjoyment.

The short, dark-haired young woman exited the tube, pulling a large, red, Radio Flyer wagon piled with wrapped gifts. She laughed at the gathering, especially when she saw Joss' hands over her niece's ears. "Kim and Will again, huh?" she asked, and Joss nodded. "I swear, I keep forgetting to bring a Grande-sized Soaker Cannon, filled with ice water, for the two of them," she said, shaking her head and allowing her dark black hair to cascade.

"Hello, Hana," Wade smiled, and the young woman stepped over and hugged him.

"How did the last 'mish' one go?" Wade asked after he released her.

"'No big,'" she grinned. "Either the new teams are getting better, or the crooks and super-villains are getting lamer."

"Personally, I believe the former," Wade smiled and shot her a glance that was filled with a truckload of approval, and Hana bowed her head in respect.

"Is _she_ cooking?" she asked, and Wade nodded, which made Hana immediately reply:

"Brudder would like the fact that Sister finally learned not to burn down a kitchen with water,"

Wade smiled like a Cheshire cat filled with catnip. He enjoyed Hana's continued use of the word she had called Ron when she was very young and, even though she knew the correction pronunciation , she always said it this way when she talked about Ron. By now, Wade knew, Hana's twinges of loss were almost completely buried.

"By the way, Mom and Dad sent their apologies and gifts," she continued, "but they had a cruise planned before they got the invite…or, so they claimed. They told me that they were planning on making another Hana, this time on their own," she laughed. "I really _don't_ want to know what they are doing, but they just beamed before Dad kissed Mom and she grabbed his rear."

"I'm glad that they're having fun," Elizabeth smiled.

Hana laughed as the last 'bot finally bowed to her after it had been unsuccessful in retrieving the last gift from her hands. She had been playfully tormenting the poor thing's programming by nimbly moving the gift over various parts of her body while she was talking. She bowed back and handed the gift over, and the 'bot scurried away at top speed before she could change her mind.

"Who else are we waiting on, besides," Hana continued as she tilted her head down the hall, "the guests of honor?" The barely now audible sounds, except to trained ears, were slowly subsiding causing a momentary subdued giggle to emerge from her throat.

"Jessica, Rear Admiral Peterson, and her husband," Gillian replied. "They're landing as I speak, and they'll take the tubes here; they should arrive in the next 5-10 minutes."

"Joss, let's go see what the Missus and Mister should be doing," as Hana headed towards the kitchen.

"You mean, where they _should_ be cooking?" Joss asked innocently, and the others laughed as the two women walked in tandem to assault their intended target doors.

After Joss left, Brady waited all of 10 seconds before heading toward the kitchen.

"What'cha doin', Brady-kins?" Elizabeth asked in a sing-song voice, and Wade was barely able to hold back a laugh.

"You don't think I'm gonna leave gorgeous women alone in the kitchen with lots of majorly-sharp knives and no way to protect myself?" he joked, and Liz let loose a belly laugh that rocked the entire room, leaving the remaining guests in both shock and silence.

"What?" she asked. "Oops: did I do that?" she smiled.

The young girl and boy nodded vigorously.

--

"It's about time" Wade said, shaking his head as Kim and Will finally emerged from the bedroom. "At least you didn't need escorts...this time," he added.

"It's hasn't been that long," Will replied, looking down to make certain his tie was straight.

"No comments from the goober gallery, please and thank you, Gillian," Kim shot out before Gillian could provide a time index.

Gillian's response was a huff and a chortle.

"Well, at least you came out dressed," Elizabeth noted, lighting up the room with laughter.

"Are you two playing tonsil hockey…again?" the grandson asked, and both Kim and Will blushed a bright red.

"Unka Wade, kin I wait until I'm ancient until I do that yucky stuff like Gramma and Granpa do? The young girl asked. "Like, when I'm 20…you know, really, really old," she continued with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, you may," Wade grinned as he bent down, picked the girl up in his arms, and planted a huge kiss on her cheek, eliciting a round of giggles from her.

"You'd better watch out, Aunt Liz," the girl grinned as Wade placed her back on the ground. "When I'm old enough, I'm gonna marry Unka Wade," she announced to a room that burst into applause and watched a blushing Wade head for the bathroom.

"Who's in the kitchen?" Kim asked.

"Brady followed Joss and Hana in," Liz replied. "Be afraid: be very afraid."

"Unka Brady's weird, Aunt Liz," the girl laughed. "His mind works weird-like."

"I'd better get in there to make sure that Joss doesn't mix any 'Brady' parts into my salad," Kim joked as she pulled Will into the kitchen.

"How old are you two, again," Liz asked the two young children.

"We're this many," the young girl said quickly as both she and her brother each shot up a hand with three fingers spread out.

"But, we have to remind people that we're not your basic, average kids," the young boy added with a lopsided grin.

"And, then we tell them who Gramma is, and they leave us alone," the young girl added her own lopsided grin to the conversation.

"Round 'em up," Joss called from the kitchen, followed by a yelp from Brady. He ran out, stopped, looked sheepishly at the other guests, and slowly headed back in as Joss continued: "feed's on in 15, so get the tables set and the hands clean!"

"You can tell she's ready to pop," James Du said, and Tanya Du poked him.

--

The twins gasped when they walked into the dining room.

"Mom, the table's huge!" the young girl announced quietly.

"No sha, Ronnie," her brother responded in his normal voice. "Gramma entertains Heads of State here: she couldn't very well do it in a Bueno Nacho booth, now could she?"

"Timothy Dean Du!" his mother said softly, and he knew he'd crossed the line and became quiet.

Ronnie giggled. She enjoyed it immensely when she could get her brother in trouble, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're not innocent, Veronica Anne Du," her mother stated calmly.

'Busted,' Timothy laughed inside as his sister's tongue retreated into her mouth.

The dining room was neither your basic nor your average area in any sense of the word: large enough to seat over 20 in comfort, it cast an imposing image with its high-back Vermont maple chairs around the dark maple table and its antique crystal chandelier. Wall-sized reproductions of some of the classics: Rembrandt, Da Vinci, Raphael, Van Gogh, Monet, and Michelangelo, among others added a grace and charm that also, somehow, alluded at authority and influence that, although subdued, required respect.

Currently, the room was set up not for a state dinner but for a more intimate setting that would accommodate everyone with a spaced left empty between each of the seats in place. But what caught the guests' eyes as they entered was a second matching table that was set alongside the main with a place setting for nine. At each setting, along with the normal silverware and glasses, was a tall white tapir candle that was placed in the upper right corner of the setting.

Timothy looked at the separate table, counted the seats, and motioned to his sister. She counted mentally, and the two young people walked over to the chairs, touching each of them in concert and bowing their heads together, saying a few soft words at each other that no one heard. They stopped at the final spot, spending a bit longer at the chair, and then returned to their mother's side.

Kim looked on from behind them, holding her husband's hand and smiling through falling tears of joy. She was crying of her thoughtful husband's action of creating the separate table setup, but her smile was because of her grandchildren's recognition of the table's meaning.

"How did they know?" she whispered.

"They are _**your**_ grandchildren," he beamed, and he kissed her cheek. His smile almost matched that of his wife as they watched their young grandchildren honor friends and family.

"Here we come," Joss announced as she rolled the cart from the kitchen, piled high with buffalo steaks, grilled trout, and baked potatoes. Brady now followed, pushing a card with four large bowls of salad on the bottom shelves and two large tureens of soup on the top. Hana trailed the group, pushing a cart filled with platters of vegetables and breads.

Kim heard them coming, and she turned and stifled a laugh: all three of them were wearing white chef's hats.

"Where did you get those?" Kim asked, finally releasing a laugh.

Hana suddenly stopped. Removing her chef's hat, her hair, as if by magic, was now hanging over her right shoulder and down her front. Giving her head a small toss, her hair swung over her right shoulder to cascade down her back as she tilted her head slightly as she brought her hand up to brush away a strand of her black hair from her face that had not followed it's fellows. She then placed her hands on her hips, fist balled up, mirroring perfectly one of Kim's signature moves from her years of missions that had been filmed and broadcast numerous times and that had even been turn into a poster… a copy hung in Ron's closet from the moment it was released, but everyone denied it was there… it was still hanging there even now. It was a pose that Kim herself had struck far too many times to count.

"Just like someone else I know," Hana smiled that same smile, "'I'm full of surprises,'" she stated in almost a perfect copy of Kim's voice, and she managed not to laugh too hard at the response.

Everyone had followed their noses to the dining room, and the table was filled. After Will pulled Kim's chair out for her and she sat, he took his seat with her at the head of the table, followed by the guests all sitting.

When everyone was seated, Will slowly reached out with his right hand and gently took Kim's left. Then he reached out with his left and gently took Joss' right. Quietly, and with a calm that could not be described, the chain of hands that started with Kim and Will slowly made its way around the table until Yori, sitting beside Kim, took Kim's right hand in her left: completing the ring of souls at the table: souls and flesh made steel by the shared feelings of love and loss.

"Wade, will you do the honors?" Will asked, and Wade looked up, surprised. He looked into Kim's eyes, saw her approval, and he nodded.

"It would be my honor," he replied, and he smiled as Yori let loose a giggle followed by a loving sigh of respect that only traveled a foot. He only heard her because she was holding his hand.

"Will you please bow your heads for a moment of silence for those who are with us, not in the flesh but in spirit?" he began, and the room was silent.

After several seconds, he began his prayer.

"Most merciful and loving Father of All," he began. "We give thanks to you for this bounty, for this food which is to nourish our physical beings. Allow us the capacity to also nourish our spirits this evening as we share, with our loved ones, their most special of days: 25 years together for Kim and Will.

"Most said it would never happen," he smiled, and Kim let out a small chuckle, "but I have seen stranger things happen in my life, Father, and I have learned to look for Your hand in the vast majority of them. We have had good times and bad, Father: times when we doubted you. We are happy that you never doubted us for an instant.

"Be with Kim and Will tonight, Father, as they share their special evening with those who love them that are here and, we are certain, with those who love them that are here in spirit."

"Father, we know the world's a mess." Wade was shocked to hear a young voice begin to speak: Timothy Dean Du. "We know that there are bad people out there who want to hurt others. Father, help them learn not to hurt but to love, just like my Gramma and Grandpa have done to the people who hurt them so much."

Wade looked up at the young man, grinned, and winked. "Well, I couldn't have said it any better myself, Timothy, so let the people say _Amen_."

"**AMEN**," came the chorus from around the table.

"Let's eat," Ronnie announced, and Kim laughed.

'Just like her namesake,' she thought as Wade, Brady, Joss, Elizabeth, and Hana made certain that the 'bots had clear paths for everyone to be served.

--

Dinner had light conversation: Will, asking his daughter Comfort how she was doing with her two babies, Kim asking her son-in-law Adam if he'd gotten any sleep, and Elizabeth and Hana both harassing Joss about her pregnancy.

The highlight, at least for Hana, was when Gillian announced the immediate arrival Kim's Chief of Staff, Jessica Collegio. Hana smiled when she heard a voice she would always recognize emerge from the tube as the door opened: Jessica was talking to someone on her Blueberry and, from her tone of voice, Hana chucked inside, she was not a happy camper.

Jessica dropped the connection with a "Make it happen, Steve, or I will _not_ be happy," stated not as a request but a command. As she replaced the phone into the holster on her wide black belt around her waist, she stepped into the dining room. Her six-foot four-inch frame almost filled the doorway, but she was not over-sized by any stretch of the imagination. 'She's always been a beautiful girl,' Wade thought, 'and her size has never bothered her...well, except for that one time, but that wasn't important,' he mentally admired the lovely young women. 'Gosh, they're all becoming young women to me: I must be feeling it,' he laughed inside.

"Sorry I'm late, Ma'am, but the French Ambassador is having a Grande-sized hissy fit over the seating arrangements for the conference in two weeks," Jessica said, stopping in the doorway. She froze there, and her frown turned quickly into a major-league smile, when she saw an unexpected guest stand up from the table.

"Hana," she whispered, and Hana walked quickly to the dining room doorway.

The two women never took their eyes off each other as they met halfway. Both looked at each other for a moment, grinned, and then hugged tightly. Without thinking about what they were doing, they shared a quick kiss that was somewhere between that of close friends or sisters and one that could only be that of long-parted lovers, and then they blushed when they realized that Will was clearing his throat very loudly.

"Hana, is there something that you forgot to tell your big sister?" Kim's grin encompassed her face. "Something, perhaps, about you knowing my Chief of Staff?"

At Kim's words, Hana's memory took her back to a singularly 'memorable' day in college…

--

"Shush: someone's coming!" came from a soft feminine voice as sounds from outside told them that the gymnasium door was about to open.

The door opened, and the Athletic Director entered, walking the property as he had been wont to do for the last few months after he had accepted the new role. He still was in awe of the campus in total and the sports properties in particular. And, he felt a special pride that, when the college had named the new gymnasium complex, they had decided, unanimously, on the name 'Ron Stoppable Memorial Gymnasium." He still remembered his former student fondly, and he remembered feeling a twinge of loss when he spoke at the dedication ceremonies. It still felt strange, walking into a building named after a young man that, after he's left high school, the two of them had gotten to know each other quite well. 'Taken from us, far too soon,' he sighed inside.

He walked into the gym, closing the door behind him. He slowly moved to the middle of the gym floor. Standing on the painted mascot, he looked around at the bleachers, the new scoreboard, and at the announcer table, savoring the moments in his mind that were to come in this facility.

_**PLOP.**_

A large wet spot appeared on the floor in front of him, and he made a face. 'Not a leak, already,' he thought.

He looked up and was struck, dead between the eyes, with another large wet drop. He reached blindly into his jacket pocket and pulled out his white handkerchief, wiping his face. He squinted and saw the source of the drip.

Shaking his head, he headed for the rear door, mumbling to himself. Thinking to himself that he could not let this slide, he stopped after a few steps then turned back so he could look up at the source.

"STOPPABLE!" he shouted, he voice booming throughout the gym.

"Yes, sir?" a tiny voice replied.

"I've told you before: stay off the ceilings."

"Yes, sir," the voice replied, and he sighed.

"My office, Monday morning," he announced.

"Yes, sir," the voice replied.

The man turned and headed for the door again, but he stopped when a giggle came from a spot close to where the voice had come from.

"And, bring your girlfriend with you," he announced.

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," the voice announced loud and clear as the man opened the door to the outside. Holding the door open, he paused at the bronze plaque in very short hallway to the gym from the main entryway into the gymnasium complex. He looked at the name and likeness of the young man for whom this place was named.

"Cheese and crackers, you Stoppables are going to be the death of me." He said under his breath as he shook his head, but on the inside he was pleased, and that response allowed a bit of a grin to escape. Possible and Stoppable had always kept him on his toes and, to tell the truth, he missed them. Of course, he would never tell either Possible or this new Stoppable the truth on that subject.

"I try, Dr. Barkin, sir, but I have to uphold Ron's family motto, remember: 'Never be Normal'," the girl's voice replied to his muttered statement and he could just barely hear the second girl's voice out another low giggle.

"Hush, Jessica," the first voice announced.

He pulled out his handkerchief once again and realized that the spot on it was a large purple blotch.

He shook his head and closed the door.

"I told you not to bring the sparkling grape," Jessica said.

"I can't help it, Jess: I like it," Hana replied. "You can blame cousin Joss for that," she added as both young ladies started to giggle

--

…"We're just old college friends," Hana said as her mind returned from the past, her smile to Jessica still glowing.

"I didn't get greetings like that when I left college," Will stated with a grin.

"Sweetheart, after listening to your college friends at your last reunion, maybe you should remember what you were like when you left college before you open your mouth and insert that size-10 wingtip-covered foot of yours into it: I hear leather's not good this season," Kim said with a grin, and Will winced as the group laughed.

--

After dinner, everyone moved, en masse, to the great room and the huge sunken seating area in the middle of the room. The steps into the sunken area doubled as seats, comfortably padded and equipped with sunken/retractable arm rests and snack trays. The 'bots brought trays of desserts, drinks, coffee carafes, and mugs of hot chocolate out for everyone, and the group relaxed and got comfortable, readying themselves for the evening.

"Where's the sorbet?" Timothy asked, and Kim smiled. Elizabeth looked at him quizzically, and he explained: "you have to have sorbet to cleanse your palate before the dessert," and the tray containing the individual services of sorbet appeared, as if by magic; the dishes were distributed, and the room was quiet as everyone had their treat.

After sorbet, Kim took a glass from one of the trays, stood, and turned, facing her husband. "I never knew, nor did I ever suspect how you felt about me, my love," she began.

"And, you never would have known, if your world hadn't turned upside down, Kim," Will replied, blowing her a kiss from his seat.

"And, just think, Will: it all started after the minister proclaimed," she looked up to the heavens for a moment, lifting her glass, "'by the authority of the Great State of Colorado and by the authority of the Father, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ron, you may kiss your bride.'"

--

chapter complete.

--

**A/N Afterward:**

It's Will and Kim's Silver wedding anniversary…what should be a totally happy event and time is bittersweet…

for, if lovin' Ron _was_ or _is_ wrong, then Kim doesn't ever want to be right.

By the way: Will, her husband, agrees with her.

--

As a reminder:

This major family of plot bunnies emerged from two stories that I wrote: "Oops…", and a KP-TZ episode: Going Home. In both I mentioned an alternate universe where Kim and Will were married. Needless to say, I got some interesting responses, and one persistent individual who continued to ask me when I was going to write the full story.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it has begun and is continuing…so, all the screams can be directed at all of us.

Why these four, you, the readers ask?

This is a jointly-craftet story between four 'unique' individuals, each adding their own unique flavor, texture, spices, and contents to the dish: ja and kt (of jakt), Star_Eva01, and yours truly, cpneb.

When first I suggested the collaboration, based on the level of contribution I'd received from then in their 'beta' work, I got the following responses:

"I'm just a beta."

"In a pig's eye! If you think I'm going to tolerate this for one instant…"

I didn't listen to them, and I'm not sorry I didn't have the discipline to say 'no' to the bunnies.

Welcome, my friends, to 'If lovin' you is wrong,' brought to you by _**c.a.t.S.**_ (_**c**_pneb, j_**a**_, k_**t**_, and _**S**_tar_eva01). Trust me, this is a true collaboration, by people whose ages total slightly over…well, some things are best kept quiet. This chapter is a prime example of that power, IMHO. The comments and suggestions have been nothing short of amazing to me, and the impact makes this chapter so much more than it would have been with me, alone.

--


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